


A Dish Best Served Cold

by JunoInferno



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Revenge, people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunoInferno/pseuds/JunoInferno
Summary: The current King of England ascended to the throne by getting rid of everyone in his way, including an infant girl called Alexandrina. That baby has become a woman who calls herself Victoria and thinks she only cares for revenge against the man who ruined her life. The path to revenge goes through the King's Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, but Victoria finds herself with desires other than blood. Will love or hate rule the day? And will the King discover who she is?





	1. La Vengeance Est Un Plat Qui Se Mange Froide

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the start of a new fic. I hope you all like it. Please let me know what you think and happy reading.

* * *

“With child?”

The doctor nodded soberly at her. He was one of the fashionable set, someone her husband’s sister had suggested, summoned this morning by her worried husband as he held her hair back.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I cannot be with child.”

The doctor looked at her.

“Lady Melbourne?”

“I cannot be with child.”

“Perhaps you ought to lie down and let me tell Lord Melbourne, this is obviously a bit of a shock-”

“I am not hysterical! I cannot be with child! You are wrong!”

The door opened. Melbourne entered.

“Victoria, what is the matter?”

“We were not finished, Prime Minister-”

“I heard my wife screaming. You are finished.”

Victoria went back to the bed, throwing herself against the mattress.

“Young women often react poorly-”

“Yes, why don’t you wait downstairs, Doctor?,” said Melbourne.

She heard the doctor’s footsteps take him away and she found herself joined on the bed. She turned her head to see him staring back, reaching forward to wipe her tears away.

“I am with child.”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

“I suspected.”

“And you did not say?”

“I assumed you wanted to tell me yourself. I am sorry you are upset.”

“I just... I thought I- we had more time.”

She realized how little sense it made as she said it. How could her husband ever understand?

“What do you mean? We have so much time.”

Not for what she wanted.

“You are young and healthy and I know you shall make it through this.”

“William, there is something about myself I have not told you... you will hate me for it.”

He shook his head. “There is nothing that would make me hate you.”

The way he looked at her with such adoration.

“William.”

“I would stay if I could, but I must be in the house today and then it is my audience with His Majesty.”

“Of course.”

She sat up. He stood, kissing her.

“I shall dispense with the doctor before I leave. I think Emily’s recommendation has failed us. You must have someone else.”

He left.

Victoria laid back down. How had it gotten like this? It had seemed so simple. 

* * *

 

“Drina, are you paying attention?”

She looked up at Lehzen, having lost herself. There was so much that was dry and boring with her countless lessons, it was quite a change to have something so handsome dropped in front of her as Lehzen had just done.

Her governess looked at her sternly. “You need to know everything there is to know about the Parliament if you are ever to-”

“Tell me more about the Prime Minister.”

“Why? He is but one man.”

She looked back at the small portrait. “Handsome. Is he married?”

“Is that important?”

“Of course it is. I intend to know everything about the Parliament including its Prime Minister. So?”

“He is a widower.”

“Oh.”

“His wife was most disreputable.”

“How?”

“She had an affair with a poet, then she wrote a novel detailing her relationships.”

“A novel.”

“It was a great scandal.”

“But you said he was a widower. He did not disown her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I suppose you would have to ask Lord Melbourne.”

“Yes, but he has not remarried?”

“I do not think you should worry about such things.”

“Does he have a lady friend?”

“Drina!”

“Such topics are unsuitable. As is Lord Melbourne’s personal affairs.”

The door opened. She sighed with contempt as her Uncle Leopold entered.

“Ah, Drina, how are your lessons going?”

“Fine, Uncle Leopold.”

“Are you excited for Albert’s visit?”

She stood in a huff. “I told you, Uncle. I am not marrying Albert.”

He sighed. “We have been through this. To take your throne, you will need allies.”

“And what sort of ally could Albert possibly provide? A prince of a second tier province of no consequence?”

“Drina, we have been through this-”

“If you would like me to take a marriage seriously, provide me with a bridegroom of substance. One with actual power.”

She paced back towards the portrait of Lord Melbourne.

“A man...” she said idly. This unsuitable Prime Minister... he was certainly a man.

“Foolish girl,” said Leopold as he stormed out.

“Drina, you must listen to your Uncle Leopold. He is your only ally in retaking your throne.”

She turned in a huff. “Dearest Lehzen, I do not believe for a moment that any of them has the slightest intention of letting me rule even if I could retake my throne. They all mean to run me.”

“Yes, but what choice do you have?”

She looked back at the portrait of Lord Melbourne.

“I have a choice, Lehzen. I will be run by no man.”

And she knew just how Lord Melbourne could help.

* * *

 

  
Baby.

She stared at herself in the mirror as her maid put on her evening gown.

She did not look different, but she knew felt different. Her husband had looked at her like she was a miracle. Two children lost. The possibility of another one within her.

She heard the carriage and hastened downstairs. She was just there as the footman finished taking away his coat.

“I was not expecting you so early.”

“I declined the King’s invitation to dinner.”

“You never do that.”

“I think he was secretly relieved. I shall have to do that more often.” He took her hands. “How was your day?”

“I am better I think.”

“I am glad to hear it.” He led her towards the parlor. “Come. Sit with me.”

They sat on the sofa, she on his lap. When she had first seen his portrait, she had not realized how tall he was, how well he would hold her.

She had never been held so well. She had wondered how she would give it up.

Victoria knew now she would not.

She turned to him, straddling him.

“I mean to be a good wife.”

He held her cheek in his hand. “You are a good wife.”

“I mean to be a good mother as well.”

“I have no doubt of it.”

She kissed him.

“I need you,” she said. “I need you to be inside me.”

She stood, ridding herself of shoes and drawers, gathering her skirts in her hand as she watched him shrug off his jacket, she straddled him again, freeing him from his trousers. She sank down on him.

This was home. This was love. This was the only thing that was important.

Throne be damned.

And revenge?

Revenge be damned. 


	2. A [Woman] That Studieth Revenge Keeps [Her] Own Wounds Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad German brought to you by Google translate. Please let me know what you think and happy reading!

* * *

Victoria heard the rustling of papers as she stirred awake. She rolled over to see her husband, the Prime Minister, still naked from the night before, his dispatch box on the bed, the nation’s business gathered around him.

“What time is it?”

“No matter. Go back to sleep.”

She smiled. “And you?”

“A Prime Minister’s work is never done.”

She sat up, insisting upon tucking herself under his arm to rest her head on his bare chest.

“Tell me about it?”

He smiled at her. The one thing she could always count on was that he never held back, never told her she would be bored or it was men’s work. Even her uncle when he had claimed to want her to be Queen had insisted certain topics were not suitable.

“The Poor Bill the Tories are putting forth,” he sighed. “They want to make conditions worse inside the workhouses, almost like a prison, ban all forms of outside relief and outlaw the Workhouse Visiting Societies.”

“But why?”

“The King has very little time for people that are not useful to him.”

“Surely the King is responsible for the welfare of all his subjects?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“The King does not care?”

“The idea of the poorhouses was to create a safeguard for those with nowhere to go, the conditions were kept spartan to discourage their frivolous use, not to be punishment for not having money.”

He ran his hand through his hair, letting his papers fall. Victoria took it when he was finished, kissing his fingers.

“Have I ever told you how handsome that makes you look?”

He smiled. “You might have mentioned it.”

“You do not think it will pass?”

“No, but if it does not, the King will be displeased and it will be difficult for the Whigs to get any agenda through...” He tilted his head. “Then again, if we pass this, why even call ourselves Whigs?”

She watched the full worry go over his face. Finally, he turned to her.

“Or perhaps we ought to forget the whole thing. I could resign, we could move to Brocket Hall. I shall plant my orchids and study the rooks...”

“I could devote my time to my watercolors,” she offered.

“Excellent notion.”

“Or perhaps I ought to take up some more maternal pursuit like knitting or needlework.”

“Can you knit or do needlework?”

“I did a sampler very ill once.”

“Then perhaps we ought to forget the whole notion.”

The door opened. Melbourne moved the sheet to cover his wife.

“Apologies, milord. Baroness van Maronholz is here.”

“Your aunt,” said Melbourne. “Thank you.”

The servant took his leave.

“Will you tell her?”

“Of course.”

He frowned. “Why do you seem nervous?”

“Nothing, it is only Aunt Louise has such high standards for me.”

“You are a married woman expecting a baby, surely that is not too lowly for her?”

“You would not know what she thinks is lowly...”

* * *

* * *

 

  
Victoria breathed it in.

England.

Even the parts where Lehzen wrinkled her nose made Victoria smile for reasons she did not understand.

Though she supposed the real reason for the wrinkling of the nose was that they were here at all, having lied about their destination to Leopold and his courtiers. She wondered at how long it would be before they realized she had not arrived at Schloss Rosenau.

She was never going back. She would never be under a man’s control again.

Lehzen had thought she would come here someday with an army bearing a banner in her name, but here they were with their disguise. Lehzen playing the part of her slightly aristocratic aunt and she her well brought up niece from Hanover. They were in England as tourists, not to execute a coup d’etat and certainly not for what Victoria had planned.

“Are we near?”

“Yes.”

They pulled in front of a great house. Lehzen introduced them and said they were looking for the lady of the house.

A petite blonde woman finally emerged.

“You are not the Countess.”

“No, I am afraid not.” The blonde smiled. “Mama died some years ago.”

Lehzen spoke. “I am Baroness van Maronholz. This is my niece, Victoria.”

Flora curtsied. “Lady Flora Hastings, Your Majesty.”

Victoria studied the woman, barely older than herself.

“What do you know?,” she asked.

“What my mother told me, that you would return to England one day, the rightful Queen and I ought to be prepared to serve you.”

“Are you prepared? To serve me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She spun around facing Flora again. “I require an introduction to Lord Melbourne.”

Flora looked shocked. “The Prime Minister? Whatever for?”

“Surely that is my business, Lady Flora?”

“How can the Prime Minister help you, though, ma’am?”

“Can you do it or ought I find someone else?”

Lehzen looked at her in shock. “Drina, what do you mean to do with Lord Melbourne?”

“I am not quite certain yet, but I am confident something will spring to mind,” she lied again. She looked back at Flora. “Can you do it or shall I find someone else?”  

* * *

 

  
Lehzen waited in the parlor. The footman opened the door for Victoria. She watched Lehzen look her over and she could almost tell what was going through the governess’ head. Hair down her back, meaning she had just woken up, no time to let her maid put it up. The glow she was certain that was still in her cheeks belaying all manner of indecorous behavior. The dress, put on with Lord Melbourne’s hands, not the maid’s detailed delicate hands.

“Aunt,” said Victoria.

“I heard you were unwell.”

“No, I am quite well.” She motioned for her to sit. The footman left.

“Where is Lord Melbourne?”

“Working.”

“Majesty-”

“Please do not call me that.” She sighed. “Dearest Lehzen, I think I shall give up my plan.”

Relief spread over her face. “Do you mean it?”

“I do.”

She nodded. “So now you will seriously pursue taking back the throne?”

“No.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Lehzen, I am going to have a baby.”

The woman looked at her in shock. “How could you-”

“How could I? I am a married woman!”

“You swore an oath-”

“What oath? I have sworn no oath but to my husband. Surely I am only sworn to him.”

“You are so consumed by lust, you have forgotten you were chosen by God-”

“If God had wanted me to rule perhaps he should not have let my parents be murdered!”

“They died to protect you-”

“And orphaned me. I will not orphan my child and endanger my husband for a throne I have no hope of!”

“You must try.”

“It is a fool’s dream, Lehzen!”

Her old governess stood. “I think I should leave.”

She did not wait.

“Lehzen!,” Victoria called. 

She followed her into the great hall as Melbourne descended the staircase.

“Aunt Louise,” said Melbourne.

Lehzen turned. “Lord Melbourne.”

He quirked his lip. “William. For the thousandth time...”

“I do not think so.”

He looked to Victoria, noticing the peculiar distance between she and Lehzen.

“I trust Victoria has told you our news.”

“Yes.” She crossed her hands. “My congratulations.”

“I thought perhaps we might toast to it.”

“I do not think so. I was just telling Victoria I might return to Hanover.”

“Hanover?,” Victoria said in surprise.

“How long?,” Melbourne asked. 

“I do not know.”

Melbourne looked to his wife and the terror on her face.

“Surely not very long,” said Melbourne. “I know Victoria will want you to stay with us when the baby is born. You are after all her only family.”

“I doubt she will need me.”

“Aunt-”

“Du bist eine Königin, dein Leben ist nicht dein eigenes. Du gehörst zu deinen Untertanen.”

She left with the footman opening the door.

Melbourne looked to Victoria.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She is just...” She shook her head.

“She loves you very much. She will come round. Sometimes people have very strange reactions to events like this.”

“Well, never mind,” huffed Victoria. “I do not need her help.”

“I doubt there is any cause for a serious rift-”

“No, I do not need her.”

“Victoria...”

She turned to him crossing her arms.

“What you do is your own decision, of course, but I would hate to see you regret discarding such an important connection.”

“I will be fine,” she said.

Of course she would. So much had been lost on this path, what was one more friend?


	3. O From This Time Forth My Thoughts Be Bloody Or Nothing Worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! FYI, it's my birthday. Please let me know what you think and happy reading!

* * *

 

It was a day of great importance. One that required she dress as the Prime Minister’s wife ought to and join her husband as he carried out one of his official duties.

“You do know I hate to impose on you in such a way,” said Melbourne.

She reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Nonsense, William. I am happy to help you in any way I can.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “You cannot know how much that means to me.”

The carriage finally arrived at Kensington Palace. Quite a crowd had gathered by the time the Prime Minister and his wife arrived. As he helped her out, some of the assembled applauded.

“It must be nice to be so well admired.”

“You will have to tell me about it.”

She looked up at him in surprise.

“You did not think that was for me, did you?”

“Why ought people care about me?”

“You are the Prime Minister’s young, beautiful wife. Why ought they not?”

They turned past the memorial fountain where politicians and nobility had begun to gather, towards the facade of the house.

Kensington.

She had been born here.

She did not think it would mean very much to her to go to a place that she could not remember, but somehow it did.

“Victoria?”

She turned to him, trying to put on a brave face.

“This is your first time to Kensington, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Well, no one has lived in the place. I believe His Majesty has offered it to several members of the royal family, but no one will have it.”

Suddenly, she had a thought. “Did you know any of them?”

“I suppose I knew the Prince Regent best. He was a frequent guest at Brocket Hall...”

She frowned. “Did he give that portrait of he and his horse’s rear?”

“That is a story for another time, perhaps...”

“Any of the others?”

He smiled ruefully. “I was barely in the Commons then. No reason for any of the royals to bother with a Whig backbencher. Come to think of it, I did run into the Duke of Kent not long before then...”

“Did you?”

“He was speaking of his daughter to anyone that would listen.”

“His daughter?”

“He adored the poor child. Absolutely mad about her.”

They continued to walk towards the memorial fountain.

“He was not disappointed she was a girl?,” asked Victoria.

“God, no. Everywhere he went he said, ‘Look well at her for she will be Queen!’”

Victoria froze. Melbourne stopped.

“Victoria? Have I upset you?”

“No...” She tried to wipe her tear with her glove.

“I have. Such a terrible thing, a child losing her life in such a savage manner...”

The Royal Carriage arrived.

“Here we are...” said Melbourne.

The door opened and the king, the former Duke of Cumberland who had taken the regnal name, George IV, lumbered out first, looking around the assembled with the same air of displeasure. Even the scar on his face conveyed displeasure somehow.

“Your Majesty,” said Melbourne, bowing his head.

Victoria curtsied.

Curtsied to a man who ought to bow to her.

Curtsied to a man who ought to beg her for his life.

“Ernst?”

Queen Frederica beckoned to be helped out, but her husband did not heed her.

“Allow me, Majesty,” said Melbourne.

He helped the queen from her carriage.

“Ah, Lord Melbourne, you can always be counted upon,” she smiled. She looked to Victoria. “Lady Melbourne, how charming to see you again.”

She curtsied again. “Your Majesty.”

“Let’s get this over with, Melbourne,” said the King.

* * *

 

  
It was intermission of what seemed to be a very good production of Hamlet.

Hamlet’s soliloquy ran through Melbourne’s head as he got his intermission brandy.

_“What a piece of work is man, How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, In form and moving how express and admirable, In action how like an Angel, In apprehension how like a god, The beauty of the world, The paragon of animals. And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so...”_

He really ought not to meditate on such things with the current state of affairs.

Melbourne looked up.

“Peel. I did not take you for a lover of the theater.”

He grimaced. “I do not. Lady Peel has dragged me here.”

“It’s quite fortunate that she did. I am glad of the chance to speak with you.”

Peel groaned.

“No, listen, there is no reason that we need to be so always opposed, particularly on this-”

“But my party has the support of the King.”

“And my party the vote of the people. That does not bode well.”

“Are you speaking treason, sir?”

“Certainly not, we respect the rule of law in this country, but come now, these extreme views-”

“Have the support of my party and the King-”

“Prime Minister!”

Both men turned to see the Duke of Sussex.

“Good God, I cannot believe they let him out still...” said Peel as he left quickly.

“Peel!”

Melbourne lamented being left alone as the Duke of Sussex approached him.

“Prime Minister.”

He bowed his head, mad or not. “Your Grace.”

“I have found her.”

“You have found her?”

“Alexandrina!”

The poor Duke. He was the one survivor of the massacre that day besides the King and he was still wounded by it. Unconscious for days from his wounds, he awoke in a fever that had never ended. Over the years, he had been victims to several con artists who all insisted they had found the real Princess Alexandrina Victoria for the right price.

“Your Grace, I am sorry, but her royal highness is very sadly not with us.”

He looked past the Duke to see Flora Hastings and who was that standing next to her? A small, beautiful creature with ravishing eyes and a smile playing at her lips.

“No, the child is in France.”

“France?,” he frowned.

Sussex produced a letter. “It says here she has her eyes.”

“Her eyes?” He could only see the eyes before him.

“Alexandrina had remarkable eyes, I am certain I would know them should I see her again-”

The woman walked past Sussex, eyes cast up at Melbourne.

“Are you listening, Melbourne?”

He motioned at the letter. “May I, sir?”

“Certainly.”

Sussex handed over the letter.

“This describes a girl of four years or so.”

“Yes?”

“Certainly were she alive the princess would be a grown woman. This is simply more charlatans trying to take advantage of your generous nature and your grief, sir.”

“Do you not see what is happening?”

“I am afraid I do not.”

It was then that he noticed the woman swooning. He rushed past the Duke to catch her from falling on the floor as the assembled gasped.

* * *

  
In an office used by the theater manager, Melbourne waited for the young lady to awaken.

She finally opened her eyes.

“Did I faint?”

“Yes, I think you might have.”

She sat up.

“Not too quickly,” Melbourne cautioned.

She shook her head. “My aunt will be worried...”

“Did I not see you with Lady Flora?”

“Yes, we are staying with her.”

“Do you usually stay with the Hastings when you’re in town?”

“In town?”

“When you come to London. I have not seen you before so you must not usually come to town...” He paused. “Is it your first season?”

“We are visiting from Hanover.”

“Hanover? You have come far.”

“I suppose I ought to thank you, Mister-”

“Lord Melbourne.”

“Lord Melbourne. Are you the Prime Minister?”

The door opened. Flora and Lehzen entered. Melbourne stood.

“Lady Flora.”

“Lord Melbourne. We are so grateful you were there to help Miss Victoria.”

Melbourne looked at her. “Miss Victoria.”

“And this is her aunt, Baroness Louise von Maronholz.”

Melbourne bowed his head.

“We should get you home,” said Lehzen.

“But we will miss the play.”

Melbourne looked at her. “I believe the production goes on a few weeks more. Perhaps you might allow me to escort you and your aunt.”

“We should go,” said Lehzen.

“Allow me to escort you to your carriage-”

“No, we should be fine. Thank you, Lord Melbourne,” said Lehzen.

She and Flora hustled Victoria out.

  
“Lehzen, how could you rush me out of there? We had only just met. I had to wait a full five minutes pretending to be unconscious,” Victoria protested once they were well out of earshot.

“You were alone with a man!”

“No, I was alone with the Prime Minister,” she countered. “And I think we ought to let him escort us anywhere he pleases...”

“It is most indecorous,” said Flora. “Lord Melbourne has a... colorful reputation.”

“I do not care if he has been seen cavorting with the god of Hell, he is who I need.”

“I do not see how flirting will help,” said Lehzen.

Victoria looked out the window. “Then you do not see as I do.”

* * *

 

The ceremony was brief. A prayer from the Archbishop, Melbourne had to walk beside the King now, introduce him to various people that came by. The ceremony was full of dignitaries there to mourn the loss of most of the House of Hanover.

Victoria looked to where the Duke of Sussex seemed to be wandering off to. She followed, catching up with him as he took a back door through the house.

Twenty years of cobwebs. Twenty years of dust. That was her whole life, dust and cobwebs and promises that would never come to pass.

She found the Duke.

“This is where it happened,” he whispered.

“Your Grace,” said Victoria.

“It was here, they were all here, my brothers, the Duchess, my niece...”

She moved forward. “Your Grace, won’t you come away from here?”

“She screamed so as they put the water on her head...”

He dropped to his knees and Victoria rushed to his side.

“If she is dead, how can she be in Calais?”

“Calais?”

“Calais! I know it.”

“Victoria!,” she heard her husband calling.

Sussex froze. “Someone is coming! You must hide away!”

She touched his arm. “It’s alright, Your Grace, it’s only Lord Melbourne.”

Melbourne entered. “Your Grace.”

“I was just telling his grace that we ought to be finishing up here.”

“Yes, I should think so.”

They corralled the Duke back into his carriage and went off to their own, beginning the drive home.

“What did the Duke mean about Calais?,” asked Victoria.

Melbourne sighed. “The Duke has been the victim of various charlatans over the years, all promising that they had found Princess Alexandrina. God knows how much money the man has lost on it.”

“But Calais?”

“He thinks he has found the poor girl living as the daughter of some farmer in Calais. He is beyond reason on this.”

“Why would he cling to such a delusion?”

“Some people find a delusion more comforting than the truth.”

“Yes,” she agreed. 


	4. Stronger Than Lover's Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so here we are again. Please let me know what you think and happy reading!

* * *

Victoria had been dreading this evening. She secretly wished that her nausea would return in time enough to call off the dinner, but no. One mild twist in her stomach at breakfast and she was perfectly fine.

Worse yet that her sister-in-law was so late everywhere this would be dragged out well into the evening.

She heard her husband come in just as she finished dressing and went to the room where he changed.

“I have had a wretched day,” said Melbourne. “I do not know how the Tories managed it, but somehow they got Whigs to change sides for the vote. I suspect the King is behind it...”

“The King? Surely he can’t-”

“As if he doesn’t meet with Peel after I leave my audience.” He fumed as the valet put on his cravat.

“He cannot-”

“I cannot stop him.”

“You are in a disagreeable mood, perhaps I ought to call off dinner.”

“Emily does not hate you.”

“Does she not?”

“She has never trusted any woman I liked.”

Victoria had to admit that was not very unreasonable. What she knew of her husband’s former lovers she did not like and as for her own original intentions...

She was certain Emily could see straight through her.

* * *

  
After dinner, Victoria finished a song as Melbourne, Palmerston and Emily applauded. 

“Where did you learn to play?,” asked Emily.

“Where does anyone learn to play, Emily?,” said Melbourne. “She took lessons.”

“My aunt taught me at first,” said Victoria. “Then I had a tutor.”

She began playing.

“You could be civilized,” said Melbourne.

“I was making conversation.”

“How can you treat where she learned to play the piano with suspicion?”

Victoria continued playing. Then she heard an off note. She tried to carry on and realized the difference in the bass was not from the pianoforte, but outside. As she pondered that, something hit her outside wall. The fright made her jump from the bench to the floor.

“Victoria!”

She crawled up on all fours. “I am fine.”

Her husband was at her side and Palmerston looking out the window.

“My darling?”

“I am fine.”

“The rabble is here,” said Palmerston.

Her husband helped her up and looked to the window. He turned back with a grave look on his face.

“Go downstairs,” he urged.

“To the servants’ hall?,” asked Emily.

“William, what is it?” She moved him aside and looked out to see a mob gathered. Torches, shouting, throwing. Something landed perilously close to the window.

“Get back!”

Before she knew it, her husband was pushing her into the hall.

“Howard, take Lady Melbourne and Lady Palmerston downstairs.”

“I am not going anywhere,” said Victoria.

“Victoria, please do not argue with me.”

“And where will you be?”

“Where do you think?”

She grabbed his arm. “You can’t think I am letting you go out there!”

“I will be fine!”

“That does not look fine!”

“I am the Prime Minister, what do you expect I should do?”

“William!”

“Go now.”

The door to the servants’ stairs was slammed on her.

* * *

Melbourne entered Oxford House quite anxious. It had been a trying day and he hoped that his sister had heeded his one request for this dinner.

“Is she here?”

“Good evening to you.”

“Apologies.” Melbourne kissed his sister on the cheek. “Is she here?”

“Listen, about this girl-”

Melbourne entered the parlor.

“William, you remember the Honourable Miss Emily Eden?”

“Yes, of course, Emily, may I speak to you?”

“Excuse us,” Emily said to her guest.

They stepped back in the hall.

“I asked you to invite Miss Victoria von Maronholz, I told you she stays with the Hastings’...”

“Yes, let us review what we know of Miss Victoria von Maronholz. First, that she is too young for you. Second, that I have never heard of her nor have any of my German acquaintances so who knows what she comes from?”

“Her aunt is a baroness. I told you that.”

“Baroness of what?!”

“No matter. She carries herself with a regal bearing.”

“Regal bearing?”

“Yes!”

“Third, we know she is ill-tempered, prone to jealousy and fits of rage!”

“How do you know that?”

“Because every woman you have ever fallen for has been ill-tempered, prone to jealousy and fits of rage! For once, marry someone sensible. Marry Emily Eden. She is charming, she is clever-”

“I am not marrying Emily Eden.”

“Why?”

“I do not want to. Hat, please.”

“Where are you going?”

“To visit the Hastings.’”

* * *

 

Victoria stared at the window.

“He is not coming. He has not come this past week,” said Lehzen.

“He will come,” Victoria mused. “I am certain of it.”

“Certainly there must be someone else you can turn to for help in reclaiming your crown without all this flirting.”

“I am not interested in reclaiming my crown,” said Victoria.

As she mused out the window, a carriage arrived and a curiously tall figure stepped out.

“I knew he would.” Victoria ran towards the door.

“Drina, what-”

“Of course you will stay here, Aunt Louise. After all, you were feeling too unwell to go out this evening.”

“Drina!”

“I insist.”

Victoria hurried downstairs. She had just descended the grand staircase as the butler was apologizing for the family not being home.

“Lord Melbourne.”

He looked up at her. “Miss Victoria.”

“The Hastings’ have gone out. They had theater tickets, but my aunt was feeling unwell.”

“Ah, well, I only came to see that you were recovered-”

“I am quite recovered. Won’t you have a drink?”

He paused. “We have no chaperone.”

Victoria smiled. “I will not tell if you do not.”

* * *

  
They were sat in the drawing room by very skeptical servants.

“Are you enjoying England?,” asked Melbourne.

“I do not think I have seen much of England, but I think I like what I have seen very much.”

“Did you get to finish Hamlet yet?”

“No, I am afraid not.”

“Do you go to the theater often?”

“No, I prefer the opera.” She did not know what had made her speak the truth.

He smiled. “The opera. Of course...”

“What do you mean of course?”

“I have a sister, Emily. Just tonight she was lecturing me about the sort of woman I usually find myself involved with, the sorts of traits they share and it now occurs to me they all loved the opera.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Some women are too passionate for words alone. They need more.”

“And you suppose that I am one of these women?”

“Oh, I am quite sure of it.”

“Then do you suppose I mean to continue with words alone?”

He stared at her, dumbfounded for once.

“I do not see that we have much choice in the matter.”

“I do.”

Victoria stood, making her way past the tea table.

She could do this. This would be quite easy. Certainly she had done worse.

She brought her hand to his cheek. His eyes met hers and yes, that was unusual. There was some sort of feeling there. She leaned in and kissed him.

The shocking thing happened when he kissed back.

He was very good at kisses, she observed. He knew exactly what to do.

Victoria found herself shaking and breathless.

Melbourne stood.

“I should leave.”

“Don’t.” It was a reflex.

“I do not wish to.”

“Will you visit again?”

“Certainly.”

* * *

 

Emily scowled at her downstairs. Victoria paced as the servants looked terrified, both for the riot and the fact that their mistress was among them.

“I do not see why you are angry with me.”

“You stupid girl.”

“What?”

“William is a fool for you.”

“I do love your brother,” said Victoria. “If you are ever going to believe anything I say, believe that.”

Victoria went up the servants’ stairs.

“Lady Melbourne! Lady Melbourne, please!”

She walked to the door and opened it. 

“Victoria!,” Melbourne shouted. 

The sound of the rabble was deafening.

“What is the meaning of this?!,” Victoria shouted.

She dodged another rock of some kind.

“Stop! It’s Lady Melbourne!”

“Someone tell me why you are doing this!”

The crowd became quiet.

“You riot at my door and no one can tell me why!”

“Victoria, get inside-”

“Is this any way to make yourselves heard? To attack the Prime Minister! Would you rather Peel or some other Tory?! Think of your wives, think of your children! The army will be coming!”

“Victoria!”

Melbourne grabbed her and put her inside, slamming the door shut.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“I will not let anyone hurt you!”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her.

“Look, Melbourne,” said Palmerston. “She’s done it. She actually did it.”

Victoria peeked around her husband out the window.

The crowd had listened to her.

They were leaving.

“You are a miracle,” Palmerston smiled at her.

* * *

  
Victoria awoke in bed.

Naked and she did not remember getting that way.

“I undressed you,” said Melbourne. “You fell asleep in your corset.”

The crowd had dispersed and she had policemen on her doorstep. She just remembered feeling very tired and wanting to close her eyes for a moment.

She sat up, pulling the blankets around her. “I was exhausted.”

He motioned with the paper in his hand. “You are quite a sensation.”

“What? Me? Why?”

He stood, walking over to her. He handed the paper to her.

There was an illustration. Her looking awfully small- which displeased her- converting the crowd baying for blood to peace as she held an orb in her hand, depicted as quite the angel.

“I’ve embarrassed you.” She looked up at him. “I am sorry.”

“No...” He sat on the bed next to her. “No.”

She shook her head. “The last thing in the world I would do would be to embarrass you.”

“Victoria, you could not embarrass me, do you understand? I have been through far too much, far more humiliating than last night, but please never do that again.”

“I only thought of you.”

“If anything happened to you...” He looked up at her. “Do you understand? I was nearly dead when we met. If anything happened to you, that would be the end of me.”

“What do you mean nearly dead?”

“What did I have to live for?”

“You are Prime Minister-”

“To a king with no respect for that, the Constitution...”

“Which is why you are so important.”

“I am swimming against a tide, Victoria. You are all that keeps my head above water.”

She shook her head at him, then met his lips with hers. She pulled him in the bed with her and he climbed on top of her, tossing the bedclothes aside.

“I want you, you,” she begged, untying his dressing gown.

She watched as he quickly divested himself of his clothing and was bare before her.

“There. You have me.” He kissed her again. “You have me.”

She kissed back, grasping him closer, desperate for him. Her legs opened for him and he buried himself in her.

Victoria gasped as she grasped him closer.

“You, you...” she moaned.

“I am here.”

She clung to him, dug his nails into his back, harder as she broke. Melbourne furrowed his brow at her as he wiped away  her tears. 

"It's alright, Victoria, Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "Did I hurt you?"

She was not speaking of her nails, but he had no way to know that.

"Of course not."

He held her as she cried, whispering soothing nothings in her ear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, here we are. Please let me know what you think and happy reading!

* * *

Melbourne was talking about his day when he first brought it up.

“Oh, before I forget, the French heir apparent will be coming.”

She looked up. “What?”

“I know. It’s a terrible idea. To have the King freely associate with a French monarch, but there you have it. I think he loves to have stricter monarchy near him so he can see what it looks like...”

“The Duc d’Orleans.”

“Yes.”

“Will we host them?”

“No, nothing like that. I think they have little interest in being a Viscount’s guest. There will be a state dinner and I am Prime Minister. You are the Prime Minister’s wife...”

She tried to feign a smile. “Of course.”

“I am certain they will find you charming. I cannot imagine anyone who would not. Oh, his wife is from somewhere in Germany...”

“Mecklenberg-Schwerin.” He looked at her with an approving smile. “Helene.”

Melbourne shook his head. “You have such a gift for royal genealogy.”

“It is nothing.”

“Certainly not. You do everything so well.” 

  
Then the night came and she was finally forced to return to her room and face it.

“Jenkins, you have returned.”

“Yes, ma’am. My apologies again if my absence was a hardship for you-”

“Is everything alright at home?”

Jenkins took a while to speak.

“My nephew died. And his father. My sister needed my help.”

“Oh. My condolences, Jenkins. Do you not need more time?”

“No. Best to get back to work and get you ready for tonight. Big do, I take it?”

Victoria sighed. She had enjoyed being outside herself for the moment.

“A state dinner for the Duke and Duchess of Orleans.”

“You sound as if you don’t look forward to it, ma’am.”

“I might run into someone I do not wish to,” she said.

Victoria turned at a knock at the door. Her husband entered. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I had an offering...”

She turned from her mirror. Jenkins stepped back.

“What sort of offering?”

He revealed a box behind him and placed it before her. She opened it and inside was a tiara of diamonds and pearls.

“The tiara of Lady Melbourne. Granted, you would be only the second wearer...”

“Oh, William, it is beautiful.”

“It is no match for queens and duchesses-”

She shook her head. “No. I love it. Thank you.”

She closed the box and handed it to Jenkins. She kissed her husband.

“I will let you finish dressing,” he said.

She smiled as he left, then sat at her table and opened the drawer.

“What sort of hairstyle tonight?”

“Some braids I think. We want to match the tiara.” She pulled a dagger from the drawer and placed it on the table. “And I will wear this in my sleeve.”

Jenkins stared. “Does it go with the tiara, ma’am?”

* * *

  
It had been weeks since Melbourne first visited Victoria at the Hastings’ and she had not come closer to receiving an invitation from Lady Palmerston.

Melbourne visited every afternoon, though, and they took walks in the garden and the park. They finished Hamlet as everyone stared at the young woman in the Prime Minister’s box.

Then it came. The invitation to Broadlands for she and Aunt Louise.

She would not waste it on talks of poetry and history.

Victoria made her plan for after dinner the first night, padding past Lehzen’s room and to the other side of the house where Melbourne was.

The door opened.

“You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

“No. Come in.”

She walked inside and he shut the door behind her.

“I could not sleep... and I wondered if you were awake, then I thought it would be a shame if...”

He kissed her.

“Forgive me,” he said.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Every night since we met, I have thought of nothing but you...”

Victoria felt a chill up her spine.

“Kiss me again.”

This was a tool.

Yes, that’s what Victoria tried to tell herself as she found herself in Lord Melbourne’s lap, enjoying his kisses. Long, languid, the skill of a man who knew what to do with a woman.

He did not stop with lips. Neck, her collarbone, her shoulders. All fair game. He seemed to take particular pleasure in running his hands over her body, feeling her curves.

He locked eyes with her, as his hand moved to cup her breast, but it went further, he lowered her nightdress just enough to free her breast. She gasped, an embarrassing admission for a woman bent on seduction. Then he took his tongue, lathing her nipple and then suckling as she moaned.

“I do not want to stop.”

“Nor do I,” she said truthfully.

“Victoria, please mind what you are saying, I...” She could see the struggle in him, holding back. “I want to make love to you, desperately, but-”

“Yes?”

“Do you know what that means?”

“Lord Melbourne...” she sighed. “Would you be very upset if I told you I have already lost my maidenhead?”

“No,” he said. “Indeed not. That makes matters much simpler.”

“Good-”

He lifted her into his arms and brought her to the bed. He freed her of her nightdress first and then his own clothes. She watched in rapt attention as each new piece of skin was revealed, his neck, his shoulders, hips... each part as beautiful as the last.

“What do you want?,” he asked.

“What?”

He moved closer, settling between her legs. “Shall I make you come apart by my mouth or my hand...”

He provided a demonstration, dipping a finger inside her. She shuddered.

“Do you like that?”

“I want you.” She was not lying. “You. I want your cock.”

That she was so forward seemed to excite him. He held her as he drove in, they both exchanged kisses and moans. She came first and he followed as she locked her legs around him. She did not want to lose him.

“William...”

“Victoria.” He covered her in kisses again. "Victoria, Victoria..."

* * *

 

“Ah, Lord Melbourne!,” cried Queen Frederica. She looked to her French guests. Her husband chose not to rise from his throne. “This is the Prime Minister and his charming young wife, Lady Melbourne. She is German.”

Louis looked at her. Helene smiled. She spoke a few words of German at her and the Duchess replied.

“Lord Melbourne, you are lucky to have such a cultured wife,” said Helene.

“I am lucky to have any sort of wife, let alone this one, Duchess,” said Melbourne.

“William...” she admonished.

Dinner was its own ordeal, keeping up small talk with Robert Peel on one side, the Duke and Duchess across from her. Her only comfort was between courses when she could take her husband’s hand under the table.

“Have you been to Paris?,” asked Helene.

“No,” Victoria said too quickly. “Forgive me, no, Duchess.”

She smiled. “It is quite alright. Speaking to you I almost feel as if I am talking to someone of my own station, Lady Melbourne.”

Yes, her own station. Or rather that Helene was her lesser and the Duke and everyone here-

Her husband squeezed her hand again, not even looking at her.

Yes, her husband was the only one at this table she would consider her equal.

“Thank you, Duchess,” she smiled. “That is quite a compliment.”

Louis glared.

Dinner ended. The men went stayed at the table and the women to the drawing room. She left them, going down the hall, she just needed air. A moment. The less time with them the better.

She turned to see Louis.

“Lady Melbourne,” sighed Louis.

He was standing to close to her, entirely too close.

“Last we met, you called yourself queen, though you were certainly no lady.”

Victoria smiled. “Would it help if I said I have no idea what you speak of, your highness?”

“No. You think I would not know you?”

He laughed. She joined him and drew the knife from her sleeve, pointing it at the prince’s neck.

“Here is my offer, we have never met.”

“I could tell the king-”

“That you had an affair with someone who could take his throne? What might that do to your new alliance? Your position is fragile, you cannot make English enemies.”

“Fine.”

Victoria withdrew the knife to her sleeve.

“Such a hard heart from the girl I seduced...” mused Louis.

Victoria smiled. “What?

“You were so in love.”

“I was never in love with you.”

“Then explain your moans for me.”

She shook her head. “I was lying.”

“Lying?”

“Yes, to make me really moan you must do more than just rock back and forth. Anything more. Anything at all.”

She walked back into the parlor. By now, the men had joined the ladies. Melbourne approached her.

“Where did you go?”

“I am sorry. I was not feeling well.”

“Do not apologize.”

“Will you be very upset if I go home?”

“I did not know you were unwell. We will leave at once.”

“No, I would not burden you-”

“Of course you must.”

With a few quick farewells, he led her back to the carriage and they began the drive back to Dover House.

So close.

She had come so close to losing it all and what of her husband or their child? What would happen? The only thing keeping Louis silent was his desire for the King’s help, what if he did not need it, what if he had something else the King wanted, what if, what if-

“Victoria, are you-”

Out of nowhere, she felt bile coming from her mouth, followed by the entire dinner. Behind her, her husband held her and whispered to her.

“I am sorry...” she sobbed as it finally stopped.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” her husband said softly as he helped her out.

The carriage was covered in sick, she was not certain even Jenkins could fix the front of her gown or her husband’s breeches. He gently led her up the steps.

“Can you go upstairs?,” he asked.

She nodded, moving to go on her own, surprised as her husband joined her. He had her in the bedroom and had begun unlacing her corset just as Jenkins arrived, silently handing her lady’s maid each piece of clothing.

“Will you get her in bed while I change?,” Melbourne asked Jenkins.

“Of course, my lord.”

Jenkins led her to bed as her mind raced.

“I can’t lose any more.”

“Ma’am?”

“I’ve lost everything, everyone, what am I? What creature lives a life such as I have?”

Jenkins shook her head. “I don’t think I understand, ma’am.” 

"No one does..." she whispered.


	6. Oh If Revenge Did Move The Stars Instead of Love They Would Not Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are again. Please let me know what you think and happy reading!

* * *

 

Things had not been the same since the dinner with the French.

Melbourne had thought perhaps that the Duke of Orleans had made some untoward comment towards Victoria when his back was turned. After all, the Duke leered at her all evening. The only time he had seen them alone was later, though, just before they left and that would not have accounted for how distracted Victoria seemed the whole evening. Though what else could have possibly precipitated her reaction in the carriage on the way home?

She did not speak of it. Victoria had spurned advances before. She was much younger than him and of course it gave men the idea she was in want of satisfaction. She had always told him before when she had been forced to explain to some man that would not be the case. It did not seem to vex her very long. She would usually laugh when they got in the carriage. What made the Duke different? Why would she not speak of it? And why did this malaise exist weeks later?

Melbourne had gone to his sister hoping for some help with Victoria and the strange moods she had taken on.

Emily looked up at Melbourne. “Oh, you mean things are not well at home?”

He shook his head. “I knew I should not have brought this to you.”

“Then why did you?”

“I thought you might have some sympathy. She is having your niece or nephew-”

“Is she?”

He felt his face burn. “Do not. I think it very unbecoming of you in particular to cast such aspersions.”

“How can you think her so pure?”

“She is not deceitful.”

“Isn’t she?”

“Believe what you want of her, she is not a liar.”

“What was that business with the riot?”

“Saving our lives, you mean?”

“We would have been perfectly fine!”

Melbourne stood.

“Where are you going, William?”

“I thought perhaps you could help me, but I see I was wrong.”

“If you wanted my help, you ought not have married her.”

Melbourne left Oxford House free to breathe again.

“Lord Melbourne!”

He looked up to see the Duke of Sussex.

“Here, here.”

The Duke beckoned him to his carriage and he saw no choice but to obey.

“Your Grace, how did you know I was here?”

“Never mind that. There is a matter of the utmost importance I must speak to you on.”

Melbourne looked around. Something did not seem quite right, but how could he refuse?

“Come in!”

Sussex opened the door and Melbourne stepped in the carriage. Before he knew what had happened, Sussex banged on the roof of the carriage and they were off.

“Your Grace, I must protest!”

“No, Melbourne, you must come.”

“I have a wife. She will be expecting me home.”

“Oh, never mind your wife, man! This is about Alexandrina!”

“Forgive me, sir, Alexandrina is dead.”

“No, you are wrong, Melbourne. She is in Maidstone.”

Melbourne looked out the carriage as it sped down the street.

* * *

 

 

“Ah, William, you are here,” said Emily. 

Melbourne came in the room. It was empty save his sister.

“Where is everyone else?”

“Everyone else? No, I wanted to speak you alone.”

He sat.

She looked very grave. “I am afraid I have something I must tell you about Miss Von Maronholz.”

“What now? Do you disapprove of her bonnets?”

“I only have your best interest at heart.” She leaned forward. “My lady’s maid saw her in the bachelors’ corridor.”

He leaned back. “Did she?”

“Yes, now I do not know whose room she went to-”

Emily was enjoying this far too much.

“She went to my room.”

Emily gawked at him. “William!”

“I think we are both civilized enough to not discuss what she was after.”

“A girl of her age going to a man’s bedroom? She was a guest!”

“This strikes me as a strange, almost hypocritical attitude from a woman who had an affair for the better part of twenty years.”

“That is not-” She shifted. “That is not the same.”

“Surely Miss von Maronholz and I are the only ones who need to be concerned with what happens between us.”

“Do you not see what is happening?”

“What?”

“She is a fortune hunter! Soon she will fall pregnant- or at least think she has fallen pregnant- and you will find yourself married to her.”

“Right, well, this has all been very enlightening, Emily, but I must be off.”

“You are not listening-”

“What am I saving my fortune for?!,” he shouted. “Can you tell me that, Emily? I have no children, no wife, not even an heir to inherit apart from Frederick and when he dies, should he die a bachelor- which looks very likely- the title dies.”

“Your reputation, then. Your legacy!”

“What legacy? As the Prime Minister who could not defend the constitution against a would be tyrant king? Or the cuckold who lost his wife to a damned poet? You will forgive me if I do not see how the epitaph ‘Here lies the Second Viscount Melbourne, he fell for a much younger woman of dubious reputation’ is that much worse.” He laughed. “Good God, were she to trick me into marriage, it will have at least been interesting. That can hardly be said for my life now.”

“I cannot believe you are being so fatalistic with your life.”

“I am not being fatalistic, I am being nihilistic.”

He walked outside and to his carriage.

“Home, sir?,” asked the footman.

“No, the Hastings’.”

* * *

  
They finally arrived at the stop in Maidstone.

“They said she would be here...” said Sussex.

Hours. He had been in this carriage for hours. A Prime Minister disappeared, not to mention what his wife would think.

“I shall stop in the pub,” he said.

“Now is no time for drinks, Melbourne!”

“I am sending a messenger to my wife, Your Grace!”

Sussex shouted into the air.

He walked inside.

The pubkeeper looked up. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Is there a way to send a letter to London?”

“You just missed the post, milord. Can I fetch you a drink?”

“Might as well.”

He looked to the corner. A small girl sat there in a dusty pink dress, her bonnet and cloak looking worn.

“Is that your daughter?,” he asked.

“No, milord, she came with some travelers from Calais.”

“Calais?”

“Poor child. I do not think they are her parents.”

“No?”

“They went upstairs without giving her a morsel.”

Melbourne looked back at her. He passed some coins to the pubkeeper.

He walked over to the girl.

“Hello.”

She looked up, then cast her eyes back down.

“My name is William.”

She did not answer.

Of course, left to sit alone in a foreign land. She did not even speak the language.

“Mon nom est William.”

She did not look up. “Colette.”

“Colette. A very pretty name.” He paused, trying to recall his grammar school French. Pity that Victoria was not here, her French was excellent. “Voyagez-avec cos parents?”

“No.”

“Avec qui voyagez-vous?”

“Ils m'ont acheté.”

“They bought you?,” he could not help but repeat. “From who? De votre famille?”

“Je n'ai pas de famille.”

“Que leur est-il arrivé?”

“Ma mere m’a quitte.”

“Je suis desole.”

She looked up at him as if it was the first kind thing anyone had ever said to her.

“Elle m'a donné un collier. Aimerais-tu le voir?”

She smiled. He found something very pleasing about the child’s smile.

Melbourne smiled. “Oui. Very much.”

She pulled it out of the little pouch she carried. A necklace, yes, a cross. A famous cross with diamonds and emeralds.

He had seen sketches.

There was only one like it.

“Alexandrina.”

“Vous connaissez son nom?”

It was as if the room darkened, as if he had realized something and if someone had heard it, even in his thoughts, it would have been catastrophic.

“Colette...” He held his hand out. “Viens avec moi.”

Shakily, the little girl took his hand. Melbourne felt like a scoundrel, taking a child he did not know, but he knew he could not leave her here. He went into his purse, rounding up whatever coins there were left and put them in front of the pubkeeper. The man nodded quietly.

“Your Grace! We are leaving!”

“What? We have not found Alexandrina-”

“We have found close enough. Now, Your Grace.”

He helped Colette in the carriage first, then Sussex, the carriage going away.

“What is the meaning of this, Melbourne?!”

“This.” He reached for Colette’s pouch. She clutched her hands tightly around it. “I will give it back, Colette.”

She relented and handed it over. Melbourne took the necklace from the pouch, dangling it before Sussex.

“Alexandrina’s cross. Given by my brother, George!” He looked at the girl. “How did she get it?”

“A gift from her mother. I think this is the girl they meant to sell you as Alexandrina, but she may well be her daughter.”

Sussex looked in amazement at Colette, leaning forward to stare at her eyes. Colette hid behind Melbourne’s arm.

“You will frighten her, Your Grace.”

“Yes, I can see it. But where then is Alexandrina?”

“One question at a time, Your Grace.”

“What do we do with her?”

“Perhaps Your Grace would-” Melbourne stopped himself. He could not subject the poor child to being not only in a foreign land but with the maddest royal this English monarchy had produced in several generations.

Which was quite a distinction...

“She shall stay at Dover House until I can make other arrangements.”

God knew what Victoria would say...


	7. With A Bloody Flux of Oaths Vows Deep Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, again, sorry about the delay. It sucks when people want you to clean house and go to work. And I know the last chapter had some reactions, maybe we'll get some answers. Anyway, as always, thank you all, please let me know what you think and happy reading!

* * *

 

Lady Melbourne.

She was Lady Melbourne.

That was the only way for this to work, the only way to vanquish the memory of the Duke of Orleans. To be Lady Melbourne. To forget the night she laid down and sacrificed the only weapon she had. It had been her choice, but it had not been pleasant.

Lady Melbourne. She could be Lady Melbourne.

So she set the dinner menu and dressed.

She waited in the drawing room.

And waited.

And waited.

It was nearly ten when she heard the door.

Victoria entered the front hall.

Her husband held hands with a little girl. Dark hair, clear blue eyes. He gave instructions to the butler.

“Get her something to eat,” said Melbourne. “And she must have something to wear. Send Mrs. Jenkins, see what she can find.”

He tried to let go of the child, but she clung to him. Melbourne knelt down.

“You may go with him, Colette. You are safe in this house.”

She reluctantly obeyed. Melbourne looked at Victoria.

“A moment before you ask me any questions.”

She followed him into the library.

“Who is she?”

“I am trying to sort that out.”

“William!”

He sighed. “I think she may be the heiress presumptive to the English throne.”

“I do not understand. She is the King’s-”

“No. I do not think the Princess Alexandrina died at the Kensington massacre.”

She blanched. “What?”

“I thought the Duke of Sussex had been deceived again, he dragged me to Maidstone. That’s where I have been...”

“Deceived in what way?”

“The charlatans the Duke was dealing brought the child from France, bought off whatever sort of family was caring for her. He rambled on about her eyes, he thought it was actually Alexandrina but of course not, she is far too young, but...” He unwrapped a cloth revealing a cross. “This.”

Victoria froze as she saw her oldest possession. One she thought had been lost forever.

“The Alexandrina Cross, given to the princess by her uncle, the Prince Regent, as a baptism gift. It went missing at the massacre.”

Victoria stepped back, nearly staggering.

“And this girl had it?,” she asked.

“All she knows is that it belongs to her mother. She has no idea who she is, fortunately-”

“Fortunately?”

“The poor creature says her mother abandoned her.”

Victoria felt her heart stop. “Abandoned?”

“Yes, well, if Princess Alexandrina is out there and wants to reclaim her throne, an illegitimate child could certainly derail that ambition.”

“What will you do with her?”

“I had thought to put her with Emmie. She would not be a cause for suspicion there...”

“No, she must stay here.”

“Victoria-”

“She must stay here.”

He walked closer to her. “You do realize what people will think? I have brought this child to this house, they will think she is mine. It could be embarrassing for you.”

“You could say she is mine.” She collected herself. “Some relation of mine. Say her parents have sent her from Hanover. Her mother is very ill, the father cannot manage, something of that sort. Is that not plausible?”

“Yes. It is. Thank you.”

“I will have the maid prepare a room for her.”

* * *

 

Victoria’s mind these days seemed to be as misshapen as her body.

It was no wonder. Confined to this house for months since she had begun to show, confined now to this bed, every confrontation with Leopold and Lehzen- which was every time they spoke- reasserting their disappointment in her.

As if Leopold had not put her before the Duke as a dish to be consumed. She had not realized it at the time. It was her choice, she had thought herself to be in control, but now... she quite suspected otherwise.

She was bitter at Leopold. Even at Lehzen. Bitter even more at herself.

Not bitter at the creature inside her despite the discomfort and the illness, the loss of her own freedom. No, that child was a victim just as she was, conceived in a fit of ambition. The only difference was that there was no one to look after Victoria and Victoria was there to look after this baby.

So she would. Forget thrones, forget ambitions. There was this.

“You have no means of supporting yourself without your uncle,” said Lehzen.

“I will find something.”

“Drina, you have no idea what it is to be on your own.”

She snorted. “Don’t I?”

“I have looked after you as if you were my own child.”

“Did you not realize this was Leopold’s ambition?”

“And your mistake!” Lehzen tried to collect herself. “He will not let you keep a child. It is not some plaything!”

“I know that!”

“We will find a respectable family for it to live with.”

“No.”

“Drina, you have no choice in the matter! Be sensible!”

Then it happened. The pains began, day turned into night into day, blood and she had no idea what coming out of her. Then finally.

“C’est une fille.”

A girl. The nurse handed her over. Victoria cradled her, blue eyes staring up at her. Helpless.

“I am your mama,” she said softly. “I will take care of you.”

She looked up to see Lehzen at her side.

“Is she not beautiful, Lehzen?”

“Yes.”

A maid appeared with a tray with a glass on it.

“What is that?,” asked Victoria.

“A tonic for you to regain your strength.”

Drinking that would be the last thing she remembered until she awoke with Lehzen telling her that the child was dead.

Then she no longer cared about her throne, everything in her heart was replaced with one bloody desire: to kill her uncle the king.

Because if her family had not been murdered she would not have been left with only Leopold to defend her. Left to be the Duke’s toy to discard. Teased with ambition she could not hope to fulfill. She would not have had a child, let alone lost her. So she played at still wanting her throne, knowing someday it would lead her to a path to kill the cause of all her sorrows.

Then the portrait of Lord Melbourne appeared before her and she could finally see the path.

* * *

 

She walked into the bedroom that had been set up for the child. One of their guest rooms. Jenkins seemed to be trying to coax the girl into a nightdress.

“Begging your pardon, milady,” said Jenkins, as she curtsied. “Poor thing doesn’t seem to speak any English. I can’t change her.”

“She must have a bath.”

“Again, milady, she doesn’t speak any English.”

“Fetch the water. I shall see to it.”

Jenkins frowned. “Right... Of course, milady.”

Victoria coaxed Colette with French into removing her hat and gloves. She helped her off with the rest of her clothes and put her in the tub. It became a joint effort then: Jenkins focused on her hair, shampooing and combing it. Victoria taking a sponge to the other dirt, feeling guilty that her daughter was in such a state although she had not seen her since she was born. A respectable family Lehzen had said. What sort of respectable family let a child get in this state? Let her go to a foreign country as what? As collateral for a ransom? Oh, if she ever met them, she would be monstrous.

But now the girl was here and what to do with her? How to keep her? Surely it would not be so hard to let her husband believe that she had become attached to the child since it would be the truth with a few omissions?

“Who are you?,” Colette finally asked in French.

She froze.

“Madame Melbourne.”

“William’s wife?”

Victoria smiled. “Yes.”

She helped Colette into the bed.

“I will have your things cleaned and pressed,” Victoria promised. “Then we must find some new things for you.”

“Why?,” the child asked.

Because you are the daughter of a queen not chattel, she wanted to say. Colette’s eyes darted behind her and Victoria turned to see her husband had arrived.

“Forgive me. I wanted to see how she was getting along. I see I needn’t have worried.”

Victoria stood. “Well, she’s clean.”

“I can see.” He smiled at the girl. “Bonne nuit, Colette.”

“Bonne nuit, monsieur.”

“Bonne nuit, Colette,” Victoria added.

“Bonne nuit, madame.”

That stung her as her husband led her out. Madame.

“I am afraid this will be a terrible imposition for you,” said Melbourne. “I could still ask Emmie.”

“No,” she said entirely too quickly. “No. I do not mind at all.”

He took her hands in his.

“I think something has been bothering you,” he said slowly. “But I cannot fathom what. Will you tell me?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, nothing is bothering me.”

“Please,” he said. “It is my duty to see to your happiness. I do not know if it was something the Duke said-”

“Do not mind the Duke-”

“Or the child-”

“Of course not. What did I just say?”

He frowned. “Our child.”

Of course. Lady Melbourne was to have a child. The one who had stirred in her belly since she laid eyes on Colette, awakening something she had long thought dead.

He spoke again. “Of course I am pleased, but I am a man, I do not have to bear it... I hate to think that I could make myself so happy on the back of your misery.”

“I am not miserable, William.” She smiled. “I shall be very pleased to have your child.”

A child with a father who would acknowledge him or her. A father who was a good man. A father who- no matter what scandals he had to his name and she knew there were some- would not take a young girl to bed and laugh in her face afterwards.

She hugged him and he held her back.

“I love you,” she whispered fervently.

“I love you. Come,” he said leading her to the bedroom. “I am afraid I have kept you awake far too long with this.”

“The King must not know Colette exists,” said Victoria.

“Well, I do not think that will pose a problem. The King lacks an eye for detail. I believe he thinks your Christian name is Gloria.”

“That is quite fine with me,” she said.


End file.
